


We Only Own Our Hell

by Nanoclouds



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Break Downs, Mass Murder, Memories, Other, Violence, devastation, ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:02:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanoclouds/pseuds/Nanoclouds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an old saying that McCree knew from his childhood; "You never know what you've got until you've lost it," but that was advice that Jesse had always tried to brush away - he was young, bold, brave and unafraid of what life had to throw at him. Sat in the middle of the rubble of his life, however, that changed things. Perhaps the lesson that should have been taught more was "Strangers only ever want to hurt you."<br/>Trust was a fickle thing.</p><p>A fic inspired by Chapter 25 of the amazing ThisIsPorky's Your Best Friend! They're an amazing writer and I can't thank them enough for letting me write this. Read Your Best Friend here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6986596/chapters/15920443</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Only Own Our Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again so much to Porky for letting me write this! I'm sorry for the delay in posting it, but I had an awful lot of fun writing this and I recommend Porky's work 100% they characterise amazingly. 
> 
> Also this probably wont make sense unless you've read Your Best Friend, so I'd really recommend reading that first!

Lucio, D.Va, Pharah, Torbjorn and Soldier 76 were stood beside Roadhog and Junkrat, all cramped into one storage room, a friendly curiosity present on most of their faces. The room full of bombs would once have terrified all of them, yet now they seemed reasonably at ease, even if Jack did tense up a little after the decoy bomb situation.

"-So me and Hog were -" Junkrat suddenly stopped mid sentence, "Awh, wait, I forgot something! Wait here just one second, I can't show you this properly if I don't have everything with me!" His tone was chirpy, excited; laughter shaking as his body as he hopped from foot to foot.

Pushing through the door behind Roadhog, Junkrat shouted a "Stay right there, it'll be worth it I promise!" As he pulled the door closed behind him.

A click. A shared worried glance between Torbjorn and Pharah. Joint steps towards the centre of the room, as if that would help any in the sudden, jolting realisation.  Soldier 76 pathetically moving into a defensive position, like he was convinced that he could protect them from this.

Lucio was still smiling; always smiling. Too trustful, a trustful smile and 'don't worry about it' still on his lips when the explosions started.

 

*                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *                      *

 

McCree had been holed up in his room, sleeping with a book resting over his face when he was jarred awake by the very unmistakable sound of an explosion coming from one of the rooms nearby. Not exactly an unusual sound, given that they lived with Junkrat and Roadhog, but that wasn't the jarring part - the jarring part was the scream that accompanied it, the scream that was cut off way too early.

McCree shot up, scrambling to put his hat on. The logical part of his mind was telling him that it was just the Junkers playing a prank on D.Va - he was fond of the Junkers, but, he thought with a chuckle, they could occasionally push their jokes a bit too far. He better get in there before D.Va tried to batter Junkrat to death with one of her bunny slippers again.

Opening the door, McCree recoiled in shock, hand flying to his mouth. Anything he had in him that was telling him was a prank evaporated, as he turned to retch onto the floor beside him. The explosion had come from within the storage room that laid opposite to where his room was, and it had blown with so much force that the door had splintered outwards into a million shards, bringing blood and debris with it. The smell was the worst part, the sickening smell of burnt flesh, no, not flesh. It wasn't just flesh, it wasn't disconnected from reality like that. That belonged to his friends - McCree's nails dug into the side of his face with enough force to draw blood, shaking his head. No. No. He was frozen in fear, as the initial shock burned away, blurred shapes becoming _things_  becoming bodies. McCree almost hurled again. The uniforms were as unmistakable as the people who caused this were, and suddenly all the offhand comments made sense, the fake bombs and the faker smiles. Everything that he had worked towards befriending Junkrat and Roadhog evaporated as he stared at the carnage around him, mind slowly numbing to the distant fuzz of white noise.

He didn't know how long he had stood there before thoughts began to process again, before he could function enough to move his shivering limbs, tearing his eyes away from the torn up bodies of his team.

 _Pull_ _yourself together, Jesse, you've seen dead bodies before_.  But these weren't just dead bodies. Real life dead people were never like in films, they weren't beautiful, and people don't just cry and move on. In real life, they were your friends, your family. They were everything you'd known since you were seventeen years old. The lump in his throat felt like it was going to choke him, McCree could barely remember what it felt like to breathe. This was all his fault, of course it was. He had trusted the Junkers, respected them, welcomed them in with open arms, laughed with them, thrown a party for them. His own stupid, thoughtless mistake had gotten people killed. Bile rose in his throat again, cutting off his breathing again, how long had he known Torbjorn and 76 for? And Pharah, since she was a girl, barely into her teens, then Lucio and D.Va, too young to have really seen the world. Laughter echoed from somewhere down another hallway, and this time McCree actually threw up, blinking away the tears that stung at his eyes. There was time for mourning later. Now was time for revenge.

Fumbling for his gun, McCree froze up. Empty holster. That wasn't right, he never let his gun get more than about five feet from him. The sinking feeling in his chest was heavier now, dragging down into the pit of his stomach. When the Junkers had arrived, he had welcomed them; he'd let them into their home and chosen to put his friends in danger. He'd let _criminals_ into their home, gotten five of them killed.

The words still didn't sit right in McCree's mind, dancing over and over, round in circles. None of it really felt real, it was all just a dream, or a nightmare, or something he'd eaten or-. He didn't have time for this. He had to find a weapon, get rid of them before they hurt anyone else, before the reality of the situation started to kick in and he started to feel the reality of the situation again. 

*

~ 20 years ago  ~

 

The base was quiet, in a newer state than it had been before. A seventeen year old McCree chased after an even younger Fareeha, laughing as the young girl dodged between his arms.

"I've got your hat!" She taunted, laughing and sticking her tongue out at him, "And it suits me better than you!"

McCree burst into another fit of laughter as his hat promptly slipped down over Fareeha's eyes and she struggled to push it back into a normal position.

"Now come on, I'll take you out to buy you a proper hat that fits you if you give me mine back."

The young girl grinned at him defiantly, darting round the corner.

By the time McCree had caught up with her, she was safely sat on Reinhardt's shoulders, proudly showing off how she managed to get his hat to Reinhardt and Gabriel.

"- and I just swiped it right out of his hands- oh, hey Jesse! Good luck getting your hat back now!" She giggled.

"I'll buy you that candy you like if you give it back!" Jesse tried to bargain with Fareeha, although most of his desperation was faked, he had grown fond of the child.

Reyes laughed to himself, shaking his head, _big nasty cowboy is a total pushover, huh?_

 

*

The kitchen was surprisingly empty. McCree stood in the centre, his empty gun holster suddenly becoming a dead weight on his thigh as his emotion ached at his heart. Usually the kitchen was full of life, a large social place where they'd all gather after a tough mission, drinking together, crowded around the kitchen island, propped up on counters and round the dining table. Jesse winced, tears stinging at his eyes again as the image of Hana sitting on the kitchen counter, engrossed in her video game flooded his mind - that day had been a tough mission, and she was still covered in scrapes and bruises from the fray. Tracer, 76 and McCree had been returning late, and as they'd entered, Jack had noticed the cut on the side of her face and thrown her a healthpack, D.Va responding with a cheery "Thanks dad!" and then collapsing in a blushing fit of laughter when she realised what she'd done. McCree forced himself to blink the tears away. If it was his fault that they were dead, it'd be him that got justice on their behalf, as soon as he could get hold of his gun, or a knife, or _something_.

Footsteps are unmistakable when the owner of one has a peg leg, and the owner of the other is 7'3. Sometimes footsteps which would have previously made Jesse run to greet them could become footsteps which struck fear into the one hearing them. There was nowhere to run, not from the kitchen; one door in, one door to the pantry. Cowardice directed his next decision, legs carrying him to the pantry, sinking back against the closed door once he was safe behind it. Facing them without a weapon was a worse than terrible idea, and yet, in his anger, it was starting to feel favourable.

Sitting up, McCree pressed his face to the keyhole, trying to make out what was happening through the distorted circle of vision he had. A pair of twig-thin legs passed by the keyhole, followed by another, larger pair, both of them stained with blood which almost certainly wasn't their own. Hopping from foot to foot, Junkrat was obviously in an excited mood, letting loose a string of giggles and skipping round what he could see of Roadhog's figure. 

"It was brilliant, Roady! The way Genji's mask exploded," Junkrat made a hand gesture that vaguely resembled an explosion, "Kaboom!"

". . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I should have made it slower, but Winston was difficult enough to track down in the first place! I couldn't just let him get away."

McCree's breath was rough; how many people had they killed? Did they intend on killing all of them? Swallowing hard, Jesse forced himself to continue watching.

A grinning orange blur flashed past McCree's field of vision, hopping up onto the counter, "Oi, wot's happening? I was napping and I heard a load of noise -"

McCree couldn't see the chain moving, but he heard the clank of metal chains, and the way Tracer's voice cut off. The sickening snap that followed, and the thud as Lena fell silent, body hitting the floor just within McCree's field of vision, being kicked out of the way by Roadhog.

If Jesse had been a braver man, he'd have ran out there and protested, fought until his last breath. He imagined standing there, gun in hand, having just emptied the barrel out into the Junkers, gun powder staining his fingers. But that wasn't the case, couldn't be the case. There was no longer any mistaking of where his gun could be as the two Australians cackled to themselves.

Jesse tucked his knees up to his chest, hands dragging his hat down to cover the side of his face as he shook. Suddenly he was fifteen again and violence was fresh and new. No amount of training could ever have prepared him for this. 

Time seemed to pass slower than possible, McCree curled up silently in the pantry, the constant fear that one of them might decide that they wanted to steal the food looming over him. He sat and listened as the two talked - well, Junkrat did most of the talking, although it was just senseless chatter, and McCree was already too shaky to properly take any of it in. It seemed like forever until one of them finally suggested leaving. Footsteps started to retreat down the hallway, and McCree started to stand up.

"Wait, Roady, I just had an idea!"

McCree froze with fear, hearing the heavy feet of Junkrat approaching again. He definitely wasn't trying to be quiet. There was a clack of metal being set up and pushed into place, a few stray giggles escaping Junkrat as he made his way out of the kitchen again. Slowly McCree released his grip on the doorknob, stepping away from it, not daring to open it again. The idea of coming face to face with Junkart, 6'6 and slim face giving him that horrible, horrible shark-toothed smile that he was once so fond of made him shudder. If there was any chance of surviving, he couldn't afford to run into him. Facing Junkrat unarmed would mean game over.

For now he would just have to stay here.

*

~ 6 months ago ~

 

It was probably - definitely too late to have an impromptu shopping trip, but it wasn't like that was going to stop anyone. With the job they did, they weren't set aside an awful lot of money for food, and besides, they rarely had the free time to go out and get anything special.

So when someone suggests going out to get pizza at almost midnight, despite most of the shops being shut, no one was going to say no.

Crowded inside the tiny late-night build-your-own pizza parlour, McCree perched on the edge of a side counter, laughing as everyone cheered on Tracer, who was trying to eat as many pieces of pizza as she could at once.

Even Zenyatta, Genji and Bastion had joined them, despite the impracticality of it. McCree couldn't help but feel a bit bad for Genji, remembering how Hanzo had once mentioned how much Genji used to love getting take out as a teenager. Watching the cyborg, McCree noticed how his posture sagged slightly, leaning out against the window.

"Hey, Genji, have you got your sword with you?" McCree tested, grabbing at the first idea that might cheer him up a little.

"... Yes?"

"Nice! Mei, do you mind?-" Jesse didn't wait for an answer, grabbing a handful of unused toppings from the side of her plate, "Here, see if you can deflect this!"

Genji's reaction was immediate, jumping to his feet and drawing his sword with a laugh in the same second that McCree started throwing, deflecting everything with ease.

"McCree!" Mei started to complain, but she cut her sentence short, bursting into a fit of giggles as one of the mushrooms bounced back against McCree's nose.

"Is that the best you can do, _cowboy?_ " A moment of silence followed; an uncommunicated idea circulating throughout the group as they all reached towards their own pizzas.

Jesse broke into a grin, adjusting his hat back on his head, "Bring it on."

Chaos immediately erupted in the restaurant, ingredients whizzing around the room from all different directions as Genji frantically spun on his heel.

Ten minutes later, Genji was still laughing, "I don't think I have ever been kicked out of a pizza restaurant before for starting a food fight." He giggled, picking a stray piece of tomato out of a disgruntled Widowmaker's hair.

McCree was pleased with himself; he'd managed to make Genji laugh but- he glanced over at Hanzo, then smiled with relief. It was rare to see Hanzo smiling like that, and even rarer to see Hanzo smiling like that walking alongside Genji. Maybe, just maybe, he had drawn them a little bit closer.

 

*

How long had McCree been stood there, staring at the door of the pantry, terrified that the second he moved he'd be immediately caught? He couldn't remember, it'd had been like a trance, the door being the last thing between him and the end. A badly stifled cry of pain followed by a sharp gasp wrenched him out of his dream state. How had he let himself become so far involved in his state of shock he hadn't heard approaching footsteps? Either way, that gasp couldn't have possibly been one of _them_ , there was too much fear to it.

 _You can do this, Jesse_ , McCree was trying to reassure himself, hands soft on the edge of the door as he inched it open, peering round the outside of the door.

Oh.

The fear on Symmetra's face mirrored McCree's own, immediately breaking into a sigh of relief as she realised it was a friendly face. Hunched over, the scientist was pulling at something clasped around her leg, looking up at McCree in a mixture of relief and desperation that he didn't think Symmetra was capable of. Slowly, the situation started to dawn on McCree, shapes coming into focus that he missed in the initial shock of seeing another living person. It was unmistakably Junkrat's design, a yellow, grinning face clamped around Symmetra's leg, it's wide grin tearing through the bottom of her outfit and straight into her flesh, blood already leaking out around the teeth of the bear trap.

"My god..."

"Don't just stand there, help me out of this thing-" Despite how hushed she was trying to be, there was a desperate edge to Symmetra's voice, "They are going to kill me if they see me."

There was none of the usual I-told-you-so attitude to her voice any more, and the fear that Symmetra was showing was enough to put McCree even more on edge than before. Calm, controlled, orderly Symmetra was scary by herself, but scared Symmetra was terrifying, it meant that something was more than wrong.

Symmetra and McCree made eye contact for a second, and nodded in silent communication. Taking one side of the trap in his cybernetic arm, Symmetra took the other half with hers, and they pulled, trying to separate the powerful jaws of the trap. Giving a little, the trap creaked backwards, relieving a bit of the pressure on Symmetra's leg, letting blood flow thicker and faster, slicking her leg with blood. As the blood continued to flow, the trap tightened again, biting down into Symmetra's leg a little to the right. Hissing, she let out a tight gasp of pain, and McCree straightened out again.

One hand on Symmetra's shoulder, McCree looked into her eyes, desperately searching for reassurance, "I'll be right back, Satya, I promise. I'm just going to get a screwdriver so we can loosen this without hurting you any more."

*

It shouldn't have been difficult, going back the way he came to root through his bedroom draws to fish out the old screwdriver he kept in case he needed to run repairs on his robotic limbs. That was, in theory it should have been easy, but when every creak and crackle of an already smoking, damaged building reminds you of how vulnerable you are, it's not easy. The whole base was eerierily quiet - it was a big building, and silence wasn't exactly unusual, but now it was just unnerving. Corridors that were usually filled with laughter were now imposing, slowly crushing McCree where he walked, his bedroom no longer felt safe, no longer felt in any way secure. On the way to his room, McCree had passed Reinhardt's, making the mistake of peering in to see if he had somehow managed to avoid the carnage of Junkrat and Roadhog. If McCree hadn't already have emptied his stomach, he would have done then. Somehow, the two had managed to pin Reinhardt down for long enough to fill his armour with bombs, and after that it had just been a case of standing back and watching the carnage, blood splattering the old, torn posters of bands from when he was young. Beside his body there was a smiley face crudely drawn in blood. Reinhardt never stood a chance, McCree had told himself as he'd fled the scene, trying to reassure himself over and over again that he couldn't have felt any pain. That thought didn't feel very accurate, even to him.

Now McCree was flicking through his drawers, throwing unnecessary items onto his bed. At the bottom of the draw was the screwdriver, a small picture tucked underneath it. It wasn't much, just a silly photo that they'd taken one day a while ago, a silly photo that McCree had been sentimental enough to keep. Running his finger over the picture, he folded it into his top pocket, switching the screwdriver into his hand, holding it like a weapon. It wasn't perfect, but it was better defence than nothing at all, and with Symmetra in tow, he was sure they'd stand a better chance against those monsters.

Covering the distance between his quarters and the kitchen didn't take long. At least, it didn't feel like it took long, but he was one of the furthest rooms from the kitchen, and he would have never been quick enough. Or that's what McCree told himself, stood within the burnt ruins of what was once the kitchen, metal fractured and burnt in the heat of a series of explosions. A series of explosions that McCree hadn't heard, because he'd been too far away to realise that they were happening.

Of course it didn't matter what McCree told himself, shaking hands trembling at his sides, screwdriver clattering to the floor. Her death was his fault, there was no two ways about this. He had welcomed the Junkers into their home, welcomed them with open arms. He had been ignorant enough to believe that they could follow his path, that they could really have left their life of crime in exchange for happiness. McCree tore his nails into his arms in frustration, shaking his head - he had rebuilt his life, these people were his family, and the Junkers had taken everything that he'd worked so hard for away from him. He was a _curse_ , destined to be alone, destined to be left behind and forgotten and torn apart every single time he found something that he loved. Crouching down, McCree reached out to close Satya's eyes, that way he could pretend that she hadn't had to experience this, pretend that there wasn't burnt flesh, that there wasn't a trail of blood across the floor where she had tried to escape.

With heavy legs, Jesse stood himself up again, clenching his fists. There was no more time for him to cry, he could never show them weakness. He'd repay the Junkers with the same grace that they had brought upon his friends.

*

The newfound silence that had taken over the building was unsettling, and darkness cloaked the building despite it being the middle of the day. Roadhog must have destroyed the power box - Winston would be furious; if he was still alive. McCree winced. Whether it was pure blind luck - or  lack thereof, McCree hadn't come across the Junkers, or even heard Junkrat's incessant laughter. Apart from shattered bricks, mortar and blood standing as the last remains of the devastated building, there was no sign that anyone else had been there. A lot of the lower floor still remained largely intact, and the corridors felt more imposing than familiar now. Fresh out of ideas, McCree had chosen to just roam the corridors, searching for someone, anyone who was still alive. He was past the point of crying now, a numb darkness taking over and shutting down all of his emotions, all his direction apart from the desperate need to quell the loneliness.

McCree was absently dragging his hand across the wall of the corridor. The path was familiar, although the texture of the wall was mottled with blood and peeling paint from the heat of some dead fight now. If he closed his eyes, it was almost like it was before; silvery laughter echoing down the corridors, music and happiness coming from the room he was approaching, the common room. Opening his eyes, McCree forced himself back into reality. The common room was quiet now, charred remains of the door hanging limply off the frame. Somewhere far away echoed with an explosion. McCree ignored it, stepping his way past the ruined door to set foot into the common room. The difference between a memory and reality was jarring. Jessie reflectively shuddered at the sight in front of him, recoiling against the harsh smell of smoke and blood.

Pictures of smiling faces that had once lined the walls of the rooms had been torn down, burnt and torn, discarded and destroyed with obvious malice. Furniture was overturned, a chair still burning softly in the corner of the room. Panning across the room, McCree felt his heart stop as his eyes passed over the centre. Cruelty wasn't uncommon in this world, and McCree had been on the receiving end of it more than often than he cared to admit, but this was a whole new level. Any remaining ideas of humanity about the Junkers evaporated, they were monsters at best. Mei was hanging from the ceiling, a now drying pool of blood gathered under her feet where she had bled out from the stomach. McCree dry heaved, using the wall to stop his legs from giving way and forcing him to the floor. _They had just left her there. Left her there to bleed out and die, alone and in agony_.

Another shuddering wave of shock hit as McCree looked up to the other door in the common room, and this time the wall wasn't enough to stop Jesse from collapsing to the floor. Amélie. Stretched out across the floor, one arm resting above her head in what could almost be considered a graceful pose, lay Widowmaker, looking almost as perfect as she did every day, if it wasn't for the gaping wound in her stomach and the tracks of mascara staining her cheeks. No. This wasn't right. Amélie was the strong one, the emotionless killer; she couldn't die because she was too strong for that. Strong people aren't supposed to die, McCree bit back a sob, people aren't supposed to be murdered in their own homes.

Whatever trace of hope Jesse had held deep in his heart died. A distant, primal urge to survive set into his legs, forcing him to his feet. McCree could no longer feel his feet, barely feeling anything as they carried him to the exit of the room, stepping over Widowmaker. Briefly he paused, taking off his hat and placing it down on her body so it covered the wound, then he moved past her, gingerly stepping over a chair that had been thrown through the door in the chaos. If he hid here, he could watch for when the Junkers came back. Maybe he could beg them to kill him - he deserved it, didn't he?

Explosions slowly drew closer, but McCree barely registered them, knees tucked up to his chest, his eyes closed as he locked himself away in his memory. But as shouts filtered into the room, white noise started to filter out into voices and thuds. A familiar voice rang out, piercing straight through into McCree's skull, a voice that sounded like home. Hanzo. McCree's head shot up, peering around the top of the chair, but still cowering behind the safety it provided. _Someone else was alive_.

A new ember of hope ignited from within McCree.

Hanzo was shouting, a cry that McCree knew well, a blue glow filling the room. But it was cut off too short, and dragons screeched and curled as Hanzo's eyes went wide, slowly turning to look at the meat hook that had torn through is chest like it was nothing. A pained choke and he collapsed, a choke that was mirrored in agony by McCree.

His next mistake. Not that he cared any more, not that he could see through tears, his hope had died with Hanzo, the one person he thought he might have been able to protect. The Junkers had heard his sobs, of course they had, they couldn't miss it. It didn't matter. If only he wasn't such a coward, he wouldn't be forcing himself to stand, forcing himself to run on shuddering legs. If he wasn't such a coward he could have held them off until Hanzo was ready, died but what is sacrifice in the name of reduction.

A distant, disconnected shout. "Come on, we're not gonna hurt you - much!"

Something cracked beneath McCree's feet, the cracked corner of an all-too-familiar owl mask. _There was no hope now_. On coward's legs, Jesse kept moving, pushing everything aside.  If he'd have had his gun, he'd have put himself out of his misery, but hell knows he deserved a more painful death than that, friends dead at his feet. _This is my fault_.

Tears were spilling down McCree's cheeks, hot streams cutting their way down his face, legs shuddering down out from under him. McCree's legs betrayed him, or maybe granted his deep dark wish, giving way and throwing him to the floor, collapsed under his body as he hit the floor with a thud. It didn't matter now. Everything around him was falling apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this is a bit dry and stiff or out of character in places, I've been having a lot of personal issues recently that have made me unable to edit it and perfect it as much as I'd have liked! If there comes a time when I'm feeling a little bit better, I might rewrite it totally so it's better! Either way, I hope you enjoyed reading this and thank you so much for checking it out! 
> 
> Also this is my first time writing something inspired by another work, so please tell me if I've made a mistake in the way that I've posted this!
> 
> Pst! The title is a reference to Buy The Stars by Marina And The Diamonds!


End file.
